


To have and to hold

by santaevita



Category: Salamander - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-10
Updated: 2014-07-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 06:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1930362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santaevita/pseuds/santaevita





	To have and to hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [allgrave](https://archiveofourown.org/users/allgrave/gifts).



“I’m going,” said Vic quietly in the early half-light, not sure if Gerardi was awake. There was only a grunt in response. Vic sat on the edge of the bed for a few seconds, hoping that Paul would wake up and pull him into a warm embrace of farewell. He didn’t. Vic left, shutting the door quietly behind him.

~~~

It was only when Sofie was staying at Patricia’s house with her girlfriend that Paul and Vic went back to Paul’s. The other times, they went to Vic’s small unadorned flat in a somewhat bleaker part of Brussels. Vic lived alone, with a single bed, and when they went back there they had quick, grunting sex, and Paul went home immediately afterwards. When they were at Paul’s, though, they slept together, and Vic relished feeling Gerardi’s warmth so near him in bed. They didn’t sleep touching, though; the first night, Vic had moved as if to hold Paul, and Paul had muttered something irritably and rolled away. Vic hadn’t tried again.

~~~

The first time, they had been to a bar the night after the final raid on Salamander. Yes, others had been there too, but they dropped away as the night went on, leaving Paul Gerardi and Vic Adams sitting on adjacent bar stools, eyeing each other warily over their beer. Neither had drunk much, but both had been struggling with the strain of organising the take down of Salamander, and been increasingly stressed by the odd dynamic arising between them. Vic didn’t know if they were colleagues or enemies.  
~~~

The bar threw them out for fighting. They tottered into the street, Vic with a bloodied nose, Paul with a split lip. They both felt utterly sober. After facing each other for a few seconds, which felt as if they could tip either way into mutual laughter or another fight, they laughed. Awkwardly. Then Paul pushed Vic against a brick wall and grabbed his collar. Vic put his hands up. 

“I don’t want to fight, Paul,” he said. Gerardi tugged at his collar, apparently not sure what he wanted to do himself. Vic had felt a sudden lift inside him when he’d seen Paul laugh. He knew that sardonic smirk of Paul’s well, but laughter was new, unexpected, and strangely delightful. 

Later on, neither man could remember how the transition to rough, thirsty kissing had actually occurred; whether it was Paul, loosening his grip on Vic’s collar, who pressed his lips forcefully against him, or whether Vic had gently drawn Paul’s head toward his own. Vic did remember the slight tang of Paul’s blood in his mouth, the blood that Vic himself had spilt, and was ashamed at the following jolt of arousal.

~~~

That night, they had gone to Vic’s. The sex had been largely silent, save for Paul’s whispered “Are you sure?”, and Vic’s roughly hissed “Yes” in response. As soon as they were both finished, Paul pulled on his clothes, not looking at Vic’s still flushed face, and left. Vic was left alone and naked and unsure of himself, and had fallen asleep with flashing images of his fight with Paul, their first hungry kiss, and Paul’s naked body beneath him. 

~~~

Paul had not spoken to Vic at work the next day. The day after that, they were assigned as partners to a new case, and Paul was forced to talk to Vic. He kept everything strictly professional. That evening, they were staking out a building near the Atomium; Vic in the driver’s seat, Paul beside him with binoculars. 

“I made sandwiches,” Vic said off-handedly to break the silence. “If you wanted any –“  
“Thanks,” Paul said. Vic wasn’t sure if he was thanking him for the offer or requesting a sandwich. He felt very lonely. 

The evening passed uneventfully, with no sight of the woman they had been hoping to see, and Vic offered to drop Paul off at his house. They pulled up outside. Paul looked at Vic, clearly wanting to speak.

“I haven’t forgotten what you did to me and Sofie,” he said at length.  
“I know,” replied Vic.  
“I haven’t forgiven, either.” Vic stayed silent.  
“Sofie’s staying at her girlfriend’s tonight,” continued Paul.

The sex was better the second time. Afterwards, they were tangled nakedly together for a little, almost holding each other, but soon Paul rolled to his side and turned the light off. Vic was left lying on his back staring into the darkness. Two things occupied his mind equally, despite their unequal significance. The first was a tangle of related thoughts and emotional confusion about his sexuality and his feelings for Paul Gerardi; the second, a nagging worry that he would be displaying embarrassingly visible love bites for the foreseeable future. Perhaps I can say they were from a case, he thought, flickering in and out of sleep. The case of Paul Gerardi’s mouth…no… and he was gone. 

In the morning – it was a weekend – Paul did not hurry Vic out, but nor did he offer him breakfast.

~~~

“Paul,” Vic said in the darkness one night, when they were sleeping together. He was awake, and it was dark, and he was fretful and preoccupied with everything he’d done wrong, and wanted to say sorry to Gerardi for what had happened. There was no reply, although Vic thought he heard a slight change in Paul’s breathing. He felt, then, an unutterable gulf between his body and Gerardi’s, and although he wanted almost overwhelmingly to reach his hand out and take Paul’s, and feel Paul’s fingers interlocking between his, he couldn’t. They very rarely spoke about what they did with each other, but Paul had made clear many times in many small ways that whatever it was was purely sexual. Sometimes, he seemed angry and frustrated during sex, although the more he seemed so, the more he’d check in with Vic that what they were doing was alright by him. Once, Vic said no, and Paul stopped immediately and moved away. He didn’t hold Vic, though. He never did. 

“Paul,” Vic said again, but there was still no reply. He felt tears gathering, ready to leak out from the corner of his eyes, and the darkness in the room felt oppressive. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly, feeling stupid and ridiculous. He suspected Paul was awake.

~~~

One night staying at Paul’s, Vic woke to the feeling of Gerardi nestled against him from behind. He didn’t move, didn’t want to break the moment, but fell asleep with the comforting warmth of Paul Gerardi against his back. When he woke up next, they were separated again, and Paul was lying facing away from him. He half wondered if it had been a dream.

~~~

They argued a lot when partnered for cases, voices raised, faces flushed and angry. Their arguments never became physical, though, not after that first bar fight. Then in the evenings they would go to Vic’s flat or Paul’s house and fuck; sometimes it felt like a continuation of the argument to Vic, sometimes like a resolution. They never touched or kissed when at work. Vic grew used to it, grew used to his longing.

~~~

Then they had an exciting case, a dangerous case; a series of events led to the two of them in an abandoned hotel chasing an armed man. Shots were flying everywhere; the man they were chasing was a terrible aim, but let loose bullets in abundance. Vic got hit in the abdomen, and sank bleeding to the floor as the felon dashed to the stairs. Surely Paul will follow, he thought, he can catch him – but Gerardi, instead of high-tailing it after their target, was standing over him, face cold and immobile.

“Go on, Paul,” rasped Vic, clutching at his stomach, his shirt wet with blood. “Go on.” He knew he was being disingenuous, that he wanted Paul to stay. 

After that first pause of five seconds or so, Paul moved swiftly: he dropped to his knees beside his partner, and fumbled with shaking fingers inside his jacket pocket for his phone. At the same time he was dialling 100 for an ambulance, his other hand was clutching at Vic’s stomach in an effort to staunch the flow of blood. Vic’s hand was in the same place; they ended up with hands awkwardly entwined and slick with blood. Paul didn’t seem to notice: he was giving their location to the person on the other end. He dropped his phone to the floor, not caring that it clattered, screen cracking, and before Vic quite understood what was going on, pulled Vic into his arms, across his knees, cradling him. He held him.

“For fuck’s sake, Vic,” he said urgently. “Don’t. Don’t.” Vic knew the shot was in a bad place, the worst place, and that he probably wouldn’t live, and at the same time he was realising this he realised that Gerardi was holding him and that Gerardi cared whether he died. He wanted to say everything to Paul, but he was in too much pain. He drifted in and out of consciousness. Gerardi started crying, sobbing, and moved to grip Vic’s hand. They heard sirens.

~~~

Vic woke in a hospital, in crisp white sheets. He was in pain. Paul Gerardi was sitting by his bed. These were the things he noticed first. Gerardi was in one of those plastic hospital chairs, a cardboard cup between his hands, staring into the middle-distance. 

“You’re here,” Vic intended to say, but couldn’t quite form the words yet, and instead emitted an incoherent noise. Paul turned at once. His face was inscrutable to Vic, although the redness around his eyes indicated that the tears had not been a figment of Vic’s blood loss. 

“At last,” said Paul. “I’ll get – I’ll get a doctor. Although they said you’d be alright now.” He shifted as if to go, and Vic felt a creeping fear that everything would be the same after all, that Paul would be as distant as he always had been, and he managed to say  
“Don’t. Wait.” 

Paul didn’t go to get the doctor at once. Instead, he reached for Vic’s hand on the coverlet and let his hand rest on top. 

~~~

Later, Paul was visiting Vic in his flat; Vic was still off work from the bullet-wound. Things had changed profoundly; they had not yet had sex again, but Paul would hold Vic’s hand almost shyly, and sometimes they kissed for a while. Vic felt that they were on the verge of another change yet, that they would become something different to what they had been, although he didn’t quite know what. He was content, though; having Paul hold his hand, even if coupled with his characteristic smirk and a sharp comment, was more than enough for him. For now.

“Paul,” he said. “I’m sorry. For what I did – you know.” He looked at Gerardi, who smiled a little back at him.  
“I know, Vic,” he said. “I heard you the first time.”


End file.
